nothing here to fear i'm just sitting around being foolish when there is work to be done just a hang-up call and the quiet breathing of our persian we call cajun on a wednesday
so we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping though you say you're not a templar man
seems as if we're circling for very different reasons but one day the eagle has to land
out past the fountain a left by the station i start the day in the usual way then think -- well why not -- and stop for a coffee then begin to recall things that you say no one's at the door you suggest a ghost perhaps a phantom i agree with this in part something is with us i can't put my finger on -- is thumbalina size 10 on a wednesday -- so we go you tell me to cheer up you suspect we're oddly even even still the eagle has to land out past the fountain pluck up the courage and snap it's gone again i start humming "when doves cry" can someone help me i think that i'm lost here lost in a place called america
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